Rain fell in endless sheets, drowning the ruins of what had once been a thriving downtown. Broken skyscrapers jutted from the earth like jagged teeth, their windows shattered and their frames consumed by rust. The streets were rivers of blackened water, and the air carried a foul stench of decay. Somewhere in the distance, the faint groan of shifting metal echoed—a haunting sound that mingled with the relentless patter of rain.
Alaric tightened his grip on the cracked lantern in his hand, its faint, flickering flame barely cutting through the oppressive darkness. Each step he took sent ripples through the water pooling around his boots, the chill seeping into his bones. His other hand rested on the hilt of his rusted machete, a weapon barely holding together after weeks of use and neglect.
“How far is it?” came a voice behind him. Nadia, her voice trembling with exhaustion, struggled to keep up. Her scarf, soaked and fraying, clung to her neck as she cradled a makeshift rifle wrapped in plastic to protect it from the rain. Her eyes darted nervously to the shadows stretching between the skeletal remains of cars and buildings.
“Not far,” Alaric replied, though he wasn’t certain. The map he had scavenged was incomplete, half its markings smudged by time and water. He had a vague sense of their destination: a church rumored to house a fragment of the First Light, a relic said to restore Spirit and stave off corruption. If the rumors were true, it might be their only hope.
Behind Nadia, Elias trudged silently, his breath labored. His heavy cloak dragged through the water, its weight slowing him down. He carried a satchel filled with what little supplies they had left—a few cans of food, a bottle of contaminated water, and a small bundle of cloth bandages. The man’s face was pale, his Spirit clearly fraying. He’d barely spoken since the last encounter with… it.
The memory of the encounter still burned in Alaric’s mind. The wraithlike figure had emerged from the darkness, its hollow eyes filled with a malice that clawed at their very souls. It had taken two of their group before they managed to drive it off with invocation and fire. The price had been high—too high.
“Stop,” Alaric whispered, raising his hand. The others froze, their breaths visible in the cold, wet air. Ahead, a low, guttural growl echoed from a collapsed parking structure. The shadows there seemed to ripple unnaturally, as though alive.
“Wolves?” Nadia whispered, her fingers tightening around the rifle.
“No,” Alaric said, his voice grim. “Not wolves.”
From the darkness emerged a creature that had once been human. Its flesh was pallid and stretched tight over a gaunt frame, and its eyes glowed faintly with an unholy light. Blackened veins spiderwebbed across its skin, pulsing with corruption. It moved with unnatural speed, its clawed hands digging into the wet asphalt as it advanced.
“Light the circle!” Alaric barked, shoving the lantern into Nadia’s hands.
Elias dropped to his knees, fumbling with a vial of powdered chalk from his satchel. His hands shook as he began to trace a protective circle on the ground. The rain fought against him, threatening to wash away his work before he could finish.
The creature snarled and lunged, closing the distance in a heartbeat. Alaric stepped forward, his machete swinging in a wide arc. The blade bit into the creature’s shoulder, but the rusted edge caught on bone and failed to sever it. The creature’s claws raked across Alaric’s arm, tearing through his coat and drawing blood.
“Hurry!” Nadia shouted, raising the rifle and firing. The shot rang out, the sound deafening in the rain-soaked silence. The bullet struck the creature’s chest, staggering it but not stopping its advance.
Elias completed the circle just as the creature lunged again. Light flared to life, emanating from the lantern Nadia placed at the center. The creature screeched, its movements faltering as it clawed at its face. The light from the circle burned its corrupted flesh, forcing it back into the shadows.
Alaric collapsed to one knee, clutching his bleeding arm. Nadia rushed to his side, pulling a strip of cloth from her bag to staunch the wound. Elias sat back, his chest heaving as he stared at the flickering light of the lantern.
“It’ll come back,” he muttered. “They always come back.”
“Then we keep moving,” Alaric said, his voice firm despite the pain. “The church isn’t far. If the relic is there… we might still have a chance.”
Nadia helped him to his feet, and the three of them pressed on, the faint glow of the lantern guiding their way through the endless rain and darkness. The road ahead was uncertain, but as long as the light burned, hope remained—however fragile.